


Amongst the Gathered

by Frankiesoup



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Background Poly, Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, Lovers to Friends, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Blackwall/Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Polyamorous Character, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Random head canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankiesoup/pseuds/Frankiesoup
Summary: "I told you so many times that I didn’t care about an heir.”“But you didn’t tell *them* did you? You let it be my burden, and mine alone. You could have stood up for me - declared an heir, or fathered a bastard. But you didn't. So I left."When the lack of an heir causes a breakdown in her marriage, Lady Cousland throws herself into the search for a cure to the taint. And into a new relationship. But the coming Exalted Council to decide the fate of the Inquisition forces her to confront her past. And royal husband.__There's probably a bunch of other Plot too, but ... I'm crap at blurbs.Anyway, cards on the table. I played Origins for the first time over ten years ago and was an obsessive Alistair fan girl. I mean, fell head-over-heels in love.Then I went back and played it again about six months ago and just... didn't get it. I mean, me and my younger self apparently have very different taste in humans.I wanted to write something to reflect this - an examination of what we look for in a relationship in our early twenties, vs in our mid thirties. Hopefully I've managed to do that here... or will manage to, if I stop writing this and write the actual story.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Female Cousland (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

“You sure you want to do this?” The question was low, asked in lilting tones with a gentle hand on her elbow.

“Not even a little,” she shot back, her own voice ringing tinny amidst the other echoes in the hall, “But it’s seldom I ever want to do anything amongst this many people – let alone see _him_.”

“At least there’s wine here, no?” She could hear him grin through the words, as the scant comfort of his hand fell away. She knew he had melted into the crowd again – another face amidst the gathered.

She wanted to turn and watch him go, but she knew that doing so would give him away. She sighed and straightened her back. The steward was almost ready to announce her and she didn’t want to look as forlorn as she felt. Trembling a little, she took a steadying breath and stepped forward, her feet filling the space left by the couple before her.

“Lady and Lord Du Pont,” the steward cried and everyone moved up a space. The introduction was largely ignored by the assembled and she tried to take comfort in that – it had been a long time since she was last here. No one would remember her, surely…?

She handed the slip of paper she’d so diligently carried with her to the crier. His eyes snagged on the way her name looped across the page, then scanned her face.

“Your ma-“ he began, his voice betraying his shock as his face fought to remain neutral.

“Don’t finish that title,” she snarled, hand automatically at her the weapon on her belt, “Read it as it’s written.”

He nodded, gulped, and cleared his throat.

“Warden Commander Stephanie Cousland,” he cried.

Silence passed like a wave through the crowd from where she stood.

And the king rose from his throne and stared at her.

This was the moment she’d been dreading, the moment she’d been avoiding for the past five years. But blessed protocol kicked in and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to her mother for forcing every single boring gathering on her.

Stephanie Cousland, Warden Commander of Amaranthine and Queen Consort of the Ferelden Court, stood patiently in line and waited to greet King Alistair.

Just ahead of her, the Du Pont’s flapped their mouths, unsure of what to do. Stephanie pointedly ignored them, and was relieved when protocol won out for them too. Automatically, they made their way through the great hall and bowed to the throne, then took their places at the side of the room.

The nobility had silently parted and made a path for her to pass through the room. And she did so, purposefully slowing her feet against a desire to have the thing over and done with.

The closer she drew to the raised dias on which the twin thrones sat, the more nauseous she felt.

_One foot in front of the other. Concentrate on the details and the pig picture will take care of itself._

She found her way to the steps and knelt, bowing her head as the members of other military factions had done.

Then she began by looking at the king’s feet. Then his knees, and his thighs. She pushed away her memories and stood. His chest now. And when she could postpone it no longer, his face.

He still looked almost unbearably kind – his gaze open and honest. When asked to describe him to those she met in the years they’d been apart, she’d always chosen the word _earnest_ , and was pleased to see that it remained a great truth about him.

His expression in that moment though was unreadable, and though she’d been dreading having to see him, she was suddenly desolate that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

For a moment, she expected an argument – a return to form – but he cracked a smile, relieved and adoring, and gestured to the chair at his side. She felt her own features contort to mirror the sadness she felt at her shaking head.

“I’m here as Warden Commander, your majesty,” she was careful to speak gently – to be as soothing as she could be. She expected a return to his inscrutable look, but he nodded, understanding.

 _At least superficially so_ , hissed a particularly viscous memory, and she clung to it like a woman drowning.

“Are you here alone? At your last report you said there were a number of Ferelden Wardens now… though, that was five years ago.”

She could hear his admonishment, and again, she grasped it like it was gold.

“I’m not alone, no. I come with Warden Lieutenant Howe, and a new recruit I imagine you’ll be keen to hear from at the Landsmeet proper. He’s why I came, in fact.”

 _The only reason_ , she told herself, but didn’t buy it.

“Very well…”

Silence stretched out before them. She was about to consider herself dismissed, but he stepped forward then and pulled her into an awkward embrace, clapping her back. Outwardly, she imagined it looked like two old comrades parting ways – which, she supposed, it was too – but he took the closeness to whisper in her ear, “I’ve missed you. I’ll find you soon.”

She felt her cheeks burn at the closeness of him – at the enormity of his frame compared to hers. She gathered herself and stepped back, offering only a curt nod. Then she walked to where the other armed attendees stood.

The other soldiers felt like camouflage, and as the room began to swell with noise again, she was able to vanish amidst the sea of armour.

Stephanie Cousland was very good at vanishing.

At first, she’d learned to do it precisely because of situations like these – too many people for her shy soul to manage – but she’d soon learned the advantages of not being seen.

Almost invisible as she was, she slipped out of the great hall and into the familiar space between the walls. The Denerim palace had been built with the sole purpose of accommodating the royal family in comfort. In order to do this, the rooms inhabited by nobility all had a second skin so that the fires within them could better heat them – a thermal layer of insulation wrapped around every chamber. It hadn’t taken Stephanie long to find them, or pass their details on to her dearest friend.

“Zev?” she hissed into the darkness.

“That was not so bad, no?” said a shadow to her right. Despite herself, she jumped. No matter how good she was at not being seen, Zevran Arainai was better.

She scoffed, “He asked me to sit in the throne.”

Her friend’s usually teasing voice took on a seriousness she was unaccustomed to, “You asked him to be king, did you not? You loved him then. If you did not wish to be queen, and did not wish for all that came with it, why did you ask it of him?”

She flopped back against the wall, “Things change. I… don’t know. During the Blight, I never really expected to live to see the next morning. Something as permanent as marriage never felt… possible.”

“You did well out there, by the way. You looked like you didn’t give a crap about any of them.”

Another scoff, “I couldn’t have done it without knowing you were here.”

“Well, here I am. And here I will stay. But you need to get back out there, do you not? You’ll be called upon for an opinion sooner than all the others, I think.”

She nodded, reached out into the darkness and squeezed his hand for comfort, then slipped back through the hidden door and into the corridor outside the great hall.

Faltering, Stephanie took a few moments to steady herself. Then she drew her shoulders back, and with the ease brought by years of practise, entered the great hall of Denerim Palace like a queen.

Before the Ferelden delegate decided on what to do about the Inquisition, the least she could do was bring them the opinions of someone who’d served there.

That he’d once been the Inquisitor’s lover didn’t need to be mentioned.

Nor did the fact that the Inquisitor had sentenced him to life as a Warden for treason.

Stephanie sighed. She’d had a lot of stupid ideas over the years, but coming back here had to be the worst of the lot.


	2. Chapter 2

In the years she’d been away, many things had changed in the great hall. The tapestries had been replaced, and the fireplace had been elaborately carved with griffons and dragons. She suspected it was symbolic, but didn’t care to think too hard about what it was trying to say. The biggest difference she noticed was that Alistair seemed to have grown into his throne. Even when she’d been here, she had shrunk from hers by degrees, eventually leaving it empty – vast in its unfilled state.

And yet, despite all the differences she saw around her, the Landsmeet remained the same.

Everyone still spoke nug shit.

Stephanie sat with Nate and Rainier amongst the other soldiers, far from her husband.

Absently, she rolled the word around in her mind – _husband_. Something that had once felt as natural as breathing now seemed entirely alien to her – forced and treacherous. She tried not to think about it… like she’d not been thinking about it every night in Abbi’s arms.

She sighed, and reminded herself of the job she was here to do – the testimony she aimed to deliver and the little phial she planned to take home.

She was snapped from her reverie by Nate’s elbow in her side. The hall was silent and all eyes were on her. This was it, she supposed – time to make a good impression. She could panic about what an ass she’d made of herself when this was over and done with.

“People of Ferelden,” she began as she stood. Her words sounded small and insincere, so she threw her shoulders back and tried to speak from her gut, “I have amongst my Wardens a man who has served in the Inquisition. Before you send a delegate to the Exalted Council with calls to disband Trevelyan’s army, I ask that you hear what he has to say.”

She clapped a hand on Rainier’s shoulder and he stood, facing the court.

A hushed silence had descended as Stephanie spoke, but something deeper settled on the crowd as the man who had once been called ‘Blackwall’ began to weave his tale. Stephanie listened with a half-smile lighting her face. Rainier was a master at telling stories and she did so like this one, privy as she was to the detail of his doomed love affair. It was like something from a Tethras novel, and as such, made her own mess of a life look deliciously mundane.

She’d been married. It hadn’t worked out. She’d moved on.

And that’s all there was.

When Rainier had finished, the court erupted into life – questions and comments flew across the room and Stephanie took the opportunity to slip away as the other two Wardens fielded the bevvy of responses.

She thought briefly about finding Zev, but she knew that now Rainier’s testimony had been told, there was only one final thing to prevent her leaving, and if she could do that quickly-

She turned, and found her face deep in the chest of the man she’d been avoiding.

“I thought you’d be here,” Alistair said, wrapping his arms around her. She stepped back from his embrace, eyeing him with suspicion. He looked as though she’d physically wounded him with the action.

“Since when could you sneak up on anything?”

“I wasn’t trying to be sneaky,” he confessed, “Maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me all these years. That… sounded wrong.”

She tried to stifle a laugh – the accidental innuendoes were something she hadn’t realised she’d missed. Forcing the smile from her face she said, “I’m not staying. Just so you know.”

He sighed, “Can we talk?”

She nodded, and followed him to a small antechamber off the corridor.

There was little in the room – a few extra benches stacked against the walls, but not much else.

“It’s where the extra furniture is kept, for banquets and any Landsmeets… But then, I suppose you knew that, living here once, and all.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and Stephanie felt her resolve sway. He wasn’t a bad person – not at all – just completely and utterly naïve.

“What did you want to talk about?” she said at length.

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Well… start at the beginning, I suppose. Why did you leave?”

She sighed, “Because I wanted to find a cure to the taint… I told you that when I went.”

“I know you did, but I didn’t believe it then and I don’t now. Given all we went through together I would have thought the least we can do is be honest.”

 _Ha. Honest. Stephanie Cousland could be honest._ “I left because I was sick of my womb being public property. I was sick of constantly being asked whether I was bleeding, or wasn’t, or what that meant. I was sick of being asked if my request for something specific at dinner was a sign of pregnancy. I was sick of the sex I enjoyed with the man I loved being about something other than loving, enjoyable sex. Honest enough for you yet?”

He looked deeply hurt and she felt a pang of guilt, “I told you so many times that I didn’t care about an heir.”

“But you didn’t tell _them_ did you? You let it be my burden, and mine alone. You could have stood up for me - declared an heir, or fathered a bastard and acknowledge them as yours. But you didn't. So I left."

“I’ve fathered one more bastard than I ever wanted to,” he snapped back, “ _At your asking_ , I might add.”

She sighed and rubbed her temples, “And this is why I said I wasn’t staying. Five years of distance and I still can’t talk to you without it turning into a finger-pointing exercise.”

The ridiculous term which somehow echoed from her mother’s long-dead lips and down through hers broke the tension, and she offered Alistair a consolatory grin.

“I never hated you, for what it’s worth,” she tried, “I know you didn’t mean to let them hurt me. I just… got to the point where being with you wasn’t better than having my privacy.”

Another long stretch of silence.

“Did you really just come back to let an old man talk about the Inquisition?”

“No,” and here she paused. She’d planned to distract him later that evening, to have Zev sneak up behind him and take what she needed, but he stood before her now as a person – vulnerable and familiar – rather than as an unhappy memory.

Again they stared at one another, silence stretching out between them. She knew their time was limited – that sooner or later they’d be called upon to return to the hall, either by a particularly bold servant or by their consciences. _Honest_ , he’d said…

“Part of me came for Rainier. Before she sent him to me, he loved the Inquisitor and he felt he owed it to her to speak today on her behalf. I’m going to send him to the Exalted Council as a Warden representative, I think…” she smiled, not sure how to broach the next part, but Alistair had jumped to something of a spurious conclusion.

“Oh…. I didn’t realise he was… that you were…”

“Ha!” Stephanie crowed, despite herself, “You might have been a terrible husband, Alistair, but you were a wonderful knight in shining armour – no other shield-bearing block of muscle could ever compare.”

She caught the way he blushed at that and rubbed her face. The truth still needed to be spoken and yet… she found she enjoyed talking to him still.

“So, there haven’t been any other men?”

“There’ve been no other men.”

It wasn’t a lie, she decided, just a half truth. He’d only asked about men – not about women. Again, she felt a stab of disloyalty. Abbi was everything to her, and she’d been open about the marriage she couldn’t easily dissolve. Why couldn’t she tell her husband about her lover?

 _I’m still married, sweetness_.  
 _Do you love me?_  
 _Yes._  
 _Then what does it matter? Love isn’t finite – it doesn’t divide with each new lover. It grows._

Maker, she missed Abbi.

“Steph… I…” he began. She knew what he was going to say. He was going to offer to change, to be different – better. She had to put a stop to this now.

“Look, I just need a phial of your blood and I’ll be on my way.”

“What for?”

Again, she barked a laugh, “You can take the boy out of the Templars…! You don’t even care that it’s your _blood_? Me wanting it doesn’t strike you as odd?”

He shrugged, “I’d give you anything. I’d just like to know what it’s cost me.”

“Fuck,” she said, and kissed him.

Because it’s what she’d always done when she’d run out of things to say. Because she loved him then. Because she knew what came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If memory serves DA:O touched on the Wardens possibly not being able to have children and the impact that might have on the line of succession, especially if you complete Morrigan's ritual. Even during my first play through, I imagined that this would have a huge impact on any royal marriage - Warden/Anora, Alistair/Anora, Alistair/Cousland. So I'm trying to explore that a bit. 
> 
> I honestly don't know where I'm going with this. You might get another two chapters, you might get ten. If you're here, I really hope you'll stick around <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: This chapter contains references to infertility and miscarriage.

The door burst open then and a shocked servant spilled into the little room. If he noticed how close the king and queen stood, and the slightly dazed quality to their gaze, he made no indication of it. Stephanie took note of his face – discretion was to be valued, and if she had errands she needed running she’d seek him out.

Or she would have, if she was staying.

 _Because I’m not staying_.

“You’re wanted in the great hall, Your Majesty. Warden Commander,” he nodded to them each in turn and Stephanie didn’t know whether to feel pleased or disappointed that he hadn’t addressed her as queen.

 _It’s what you wanted_ , her conscience argued, but her feelings were muddied now.

“Come and find me afterwards. Your rooms are still the same – I’ll see you there,” Alistair was saying as he made for the door. She watched him go in silence.

She considered returning to the Landsmeet – truly, she did – but what could she possibly add? Her speciality was vanishing – herself and others. What could she possibly say regarding a military force camped within another nation’s border?

Again, her conscience piped up, _You_ are _a military force within another nation’s border. I imagine you have many opinions you could share._

She clamped down on that thought with vicious determination and went back into the walls to find Zev.

“I heard it all, you silly girl,” his words were admonishing, but his tone fond and teasing.

“Were you spying on me?”

“An unintentional distraction is as good as intentional one, no? I thought I might be able to make the cut in that little antechamber and you could blame it on a rat bite, but your conversation sounded… important. That, and there were no doors which opened there.”

“I kissed him, Zev.”

“I told you that you would. I said on the way here that you had to be careful of old habits.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said with feeling.

“Then next time you should try _not_ kissing him. You complicate things for yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to,” but this time it was weaker.

“What you mean isn’t always the most important thing, you know. He will expect…” She felt the air shift in the darkness as Zevran shrugged, “I don’t know. But he will expect something.”

“Will you tell Nate and Thom that I’ll join them at the tavern soon?”

“As you command, My Queen,” he teased. She felt her cheeks burn.

“Shut up,” she snipped. He laughed,

“Oh, I am going to have fun with this…”

*~*~*

“You’re here… part of me thought you wouldn’t be.”

“I _can_ go, if you like?” Stephanie sat on the bed she’d failed to occupy for the last ten years. Initially that was down to the nights she’d spent between her husband’s sheets, but as time went on, she’d been sure to stay for increasing lengths of time in Amaranthine.

“No… I mean…” He sighed, “There’s so much to say that I don’t know where to start.”

“Don’t start then. It’s just easier,” she looked at her feet, “The kiss earlier was a mistake – a habit. It won’t happen again.”

Another painful silence. She tried to imagine what the others were doing. Zev would doubtless be telling them how her resolve had failed, how she’d succumb to her golden prince again.

“That’s a shame.”

She could almost hear Nate mocking her.

“It’s not just the heir thing,” she said, as much to herself as to him, “I’m the _worst_ queen. I hate doing… queen stuff. I even hate doing Warden stuff. I just want to hide where no one is going to bother me, and live out the rest of my days anonymous and alone.”

She chanced to glance up and caught the sorrow that was present in the way he looked at her, “That sounds… lonely.”

“I’m bad at people. This is just… easier.”

“You keep saying that… _easier_. Easier than what?”

“ _Expectations_ ,” she stressed, then realised that she was talking to him – properly – about the things in her life that mattered. It was… dangerous.

“I’ve got a lover. Back in Amaranthine,” she blurted then. She wanted him to stop being kind – to stop trying to understand. Shadows flitted across his features as he tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“You told me there’d been no one else.”

“I told you there’d been no men. You jumped to conclusions.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Another long stretch, “What’s her name?”

“Like it matters. You made it very clear when we met after you saw me and Zev flirting that you’d never share me. And I won’t give her up.”

“That was… short sighted. Zevran’s been here a few times since you left. He’s been a good friend. I understand now that that’s just the shape of your friendship.”

The was news. Zev hadn’t told her he’d been back to the palace.

“None of this is the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“That I don’t want to stay here with you.”

He looked thoughtful, as though trying to word something tricky. His face cracked into a lop-sided grin.

“I haven’t actually mentioned you staying. I’ve said it’s a pity you’re not going to kiss me again, but….” He shrugged, “Perhaps decide whether you’re arguing with me or yourself?”

She fell silent, her mouth clamped shut and her brain frozen.

He was right. At no point had he asked her to stay. She couldn’t think of a response.

Which was just as well, because he was still talking.

“Of course, if you _do_ want to argue with me, I’d be happy to oblige. I’ve got lots of bones to pick with you – everything from making me king with the promise of ruling together and then running away, to _picking your nose in bed when you thought I couldn’t see you_.”

Stephanie remained silent. Alistair didn’t add anything else, and so they sat for a while in the quiet. Awkward and familiar and unsure, all at once. Finally, it was Alistair who spoke, nudging the conversation forward,

“Why do you need my blood then?”

“I think I can cure the taint…”

“With my blood? Surely if you need blood magic then-“

“Again, always the Templar,” she smiled sadly, unsure of how to proceed here, “Abbi found evidence of a Warden who had somehow become… untainted. So I followed that lead.”

“Abbi being…?”

Stephanie stared at him. He conceded.

“I just… I just wanted to be sure.”

“I eventually came across a mage who’d signed up, got pregnant and lost the taint. At first, the Wardens thought it was the act of pregnancy itself, but… as we’ve discovered…. That’s not exactly….”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know,” she drew a shivering breath, then continued, “Getting a Warden pregnant isn’t easy, shall we say. Which is where you come in.”

He frowned, “I don’t follow… Like you said, we failed,”

“You didn’t. Not with Morrigan.”

The implication of her words rested heavy on the air between them, and Stephanie tried to think of how best to say what she needed to, without giving too much away.

“When the Wardens heard the false Calling, did you?”

“I just presumed that because I’d not been around other Wardens for so long that it didn’t apply to me…”

“Did you feel it, Alistair?”

A pause, hardly there at all, but in it he realised the reality of the situation and his response was appropriately subdued, “No. I didn’t.”

“I felt whispers, suggestions… I thought it was just the fact that it wasn’t my time yet, but Nate – who Joined after I did – felt it acutely. And when you didn’t contact me…”

“But what does this have to do with the mage?”

“The child’s father was of royal blood,” she said, her voice as gentle as she could make it without inference.

“So…. I’ve a half sibling somewhere? My father had _another_ mistress…”

“Not necessarily… There have been generations of kings who’ve sired bastards. You might be a cousin to half of Ferelden for all we know. The mage simply told me that her child’s father was related to royalty. And that you didn’t feel the Calling suggests that royal blood counters the taint. Even…” She drew a trembling breath but made herself push on, “Even now, all this time on… I’m not as…. _Effected_ as the others. I think it’s because of…” her throat closed and her eyes spiked with tears, “Our babies. I think… I think even though they didn’t live that they’re protecting me somehow.”

She crumpled in on herself at saying this aloud, silent sobs wracking her tiny body. She’d spoken to Abbi often about Alistair’s blood acting as something of a shield against the taint, but she’d never vocalised the reasons why. Abbi had always understood the implication, but the implication didn’t seem enough here.

Their children had only existed briefly, and privately. It seemed like a betrayal not to talk about them now.

She wrapped her arms around herself and let the sadness take her. It was only when she was spent and wiping her face on her shirt sleeves that she noticed Alistair wrapped around her, face equally tracked with tears.

“You think… you think my blood can free you?”

“Abbi thinks that if she can perform the joining ritual with your blood instead of the darkspawns’ then we might be able to cure the taint.”

“And how much would you need? How many Wardens are you looking to… liberate?”

“Just me, and Nate, and Abbi.”

“Not Rainier?”

“No….” here she laughed wryly, “He likes it. He was pretending to be a Warden before he was an actual Warden.”

“I thought I’d heard that in his story, but to be honest I stopped listening about half way through because it was like hearing an adolescent talk about their latest infatuation…”

She chuckled, the sound wet and fat through residual tears, “I think that’s just his way… he talks about food like that too.”

He smiled and stroked her cheek, “Steph… we could… I mean… I know I haven’t asked you to stay but… I could ask. If you think it would help.”

She shook her head, “Alistair, I love you. You’re everything I dreamed of growing up – a knight in shining armour, a golden prince… but I think I only wanted those things because they’re what I was told I _should_ want. I was a noble’s child. A royal marriage was the highest point of ambition in my life, even if it contradicted everything I was… everything I am.

“I loved our babies, more than I can say, but…. I don’t want to try again. I don’t even think I believe in _marriage_ any more. I believe in love, more now than ever, but marriage is limiting. Caging. If I were to have my time again, I wouldn’t push you to be king – I’d have named Anora queen and you and I could have run away from the Wardens, from _this…._

“I’m sorry for what I put you through, truly. And if things were different… if you thought differently about what love is then… maybe? But I can’t give Abbi up. I love her too.”

He nodded, slow, accepting. Then the ghost of a smile.

“But you said loved me… so that’s a start…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're affected by any of the issues mentioned in this chapter, these links might be of interest:
> 
> https://www.bica.net/   
> https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/infertility/
> 
> Obviously, these are UK based, but I don't want to post references I can't vouch for. If you know of other organisations which may be relevant, please do comment and I'll add them to this list. 
> 
> Much love. xx


	4. Chapter 4

Stephanie tried not to think too much about the empty bed at the palace as she flopped back into the lumpy equivalent in the roof of the tavern.

“I don’t think they have changed the sheets since we were here last,” Zevran poked at a particularly large lump as he flopped down at Stephanie’s side.

“Is Thom still downstairs?” she asked, pointedly ignoring the thinly veiled complaint.

“There were lots of people who wanted to buy him a drink for closing the hole in the sky,” Nate replied, “I’m sure someone’ll post him in here later when he starts getting lewd…”

“He’s a lewd drunk?” Steph chuckled, “I don’t think I knew that…”

“You wouldn’t – you and Abbi always leave before it gets to that part…”

“That _part_? It sounds like it’s a scheduled event…”

“It’s better than when he arrived. Then he’d brood…”

The tavern had only been able to provide them with the most basic of rooms, given the influx of nobles for the Landsmeet. Most were staying in fancier places – city residences, the castle itself, or well-to-do inns – but Denerim still needed to accommodate butlers and the like. Not to mention families with good names and bad credit.

Nate turned over and elbowed her back, and Steph thought seriously about swallowing her pride and going back to the palace.

She’s had Zev secure this room – apparently he knew the innkeeper – and she’d crept in through the little window in the roof. Better to sneak than be seen.

A thought occurred to her then.

“I’ve a bone to pick with you, Arainai…”

“I love it when you use my surname. Means you’re angry, and likely fiery…”

She ignored him, “You’ve been seeing the king.”

“Don’t be jealous,” he teased, “Strictly business, of course.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“You never asked…”

“I’m asking now… What were you doing here?”

“Working, My Queen!”

She shoved him, accidentally elbowing Nate.

“Hey! I’m trying to sleep here! It’s bad enough you two are talking!” Nate shoved her back, and she sighed in deep frustration.

“Maybe we should take shifts in the bed – Nate can have the first go…” she stood and crossed to the window, staring hard at the palace. Zevran followed her and they stood quietly, side-by-side. When he did speak, Zevran’s voice was low, considerate of Nate’s rest.

“I’ve played spy, assassin, confidant…” he shrugged, “Ruling is messy, lonely… You should know.”

She sighed again. She’d planned to be on the road back to Amaranthine already – back to Abbi. She hadn’t expected her past to be quite so present here – not quite so demanding of her attention.

“Do you have other business in Denerim?”

“Not at this time.”

“Perhaps… perhaps you could go and tell Abbi I’m not coming home yet? If you’re passing that way?”

He put an arm around her shoulder then drew her in close, “You should bring her _here_. Perhaps seeing the two of you together would persuade our former Templar friend that love shouldn’t be jealous.”

She leaned against Zevran then, letting him carry her weight for a few fleeting moments.

“No…” Stephanie said softly, “I don’t want Abbi to see me like this.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…”

“And there is your problem, no? You don’t know how you feel,” he looked hard at her then, “I’ll go, if that’s what you really want… but you could always send Rainier. I’ll stay with you.”

He squeezed a little harder and she sighed.

“I’ll think about it…” she glanced back at the bed – at Nate sleeping there. She smiled. According to her brother, Nathaniel Howe always had a talent for nodding off with a total disregard for his surroundings.

“You can sleep next,” she said to Zev, softly, “I’m going to slip out…”

“You’re going to sleep in the palace?”

“No,” she said, but thought about it for a brief moment. That enormous bed… all to herself…

“You should…”

“I’ll see you later,” she smiled, and slipped from the window.

The night was warm enough, but the breeze which teased at her clothes had an edge to it – a promise of winter. Stephanie shuddered and moved along the roof.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there's a Monty Python sketch about 'The Advantages of Not Being Seen', but I might be wrong. Either way, Steph's a pro at it. :D


End file.
